


How to Save a Life

by sunstarunicorn



Category: Flashpoint (TV), Quantum Leap
Genre: Episode: s02e10 One Wrong Move, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-14 17:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7184213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years ago Lewis Young stepped off a landmine to save his best friend’s life.  Then Sam Beckett Leaped in hours before Lewis died.  Can Sam save Lewis and still keep the peace? AU of One Wrong Move</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leap In

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for 2x10: One Wrong Move. Pretty much the entire episode. And I am using dialogue from the episode. Dialogue from One Wrong Move will be underlined. Quantum Leap has also been pushed forward by about 15 years to fit better with Flashpoint.
> 
> I do not own either _Flashpoint_ or _Quantum Leap_.
> 
> Entire work edited as of February 19th, 2017

**_Theorizing that one could time travel within his own lifetime, Dr. Sam Beckett stepped into the Quantum Leap accelerator and vanished... He woke to find himself trapped in the past, facing mirror images that were not his own and driven by an unknown force to change history for the better. His only guide on this journey is Al, an observer from his own time, who appears in the form of a hologram that only Sam can see and hear. And so Dr. Beckett finds himself leaping from life to life, striving to put right what once went wrong and hoping each time that his next leap will be the leap home._ **

Sam’s vision cleared from the Leap effect to reveal a blue-gray locker. A shirt left his hand to fly into the locker. The tall, ruggedly built, dark-blond man blinked and did a quick once-over of the locker’s contents, hoping for a clue to his new identity. The photos taped to the locker’s inside doors featured an African-American posing with his friends and family. Sam let his breath out in relief, brushing the white lock on his forehead back and out of his light gray eyes. While he had nothing against girls, the Leaps into them were always awkward for him and hilarious for Al. At least men didn’t wear bras and walk in high heels.

“Nice toss, Lou,” a man with black, spikey hair called. He was several inches shorter than Sam with a compact frame and a mischievous look in his brown eyes, coupled with an impish smile that Sam returned; a wry gleam entered the scientist’s own eyes.

“Thanks,” Sam replied, as he looked around the locker room. In addition to the black-haired man, there was a brown-haired man about Sam’s height with very short hair and a slightly shorter blond with a crew cut and a five o’clock shadow. The brunet had broad shoulders and eyes a touch darker than Sam’s eyes. The blond had blue eyes and an athletic build. Sam looked down at himself and stifled a groan. He was wearing a uniform, complete with military-looking patches. _Please, not a soldier again,_ Sam pleaded mentally. The word _Metropolitan_ caught his notice. _Whew, not a soldier._ The scientist tilted his arm a little to read the writing better. _Metropolitan Police…huh, hope this guy’s a good cop. And I hope this_ isn’t _1969; last time was bad enough._ Sam looked around, hoping to spot Al or hear the sound of the Imaging Chamber door. He had a first name but he needed the when, where, and, with a little luck, the why. Not to mention names for the other men in the locker room.

“So, Spike,” the brown-haired man started. “How was Bridget?”

“Shut up, Wordy,” ‘Spike’ retorted, drawing a wry grin from the friendly-looking man. Spike looked in his locker before whirling around. “Sam!”

Sam jolted a bit and turned, startled to hear his name from someone other than Al. The men in the locker room didn’t notice or look in his direction. The blond tossed a shirt at Spike.

“Lose something, Spike?” ‘Sam’ teased, a grin flashing across his face. Beckett blinked, hiding a smirk at a move very reminiscent of Al; Al had pulled that exact trick on Beckett himself a time or two, back when they were building Quantum Leap.

“Yeah, yeah, Samtastic,” Spike groused, putting a snapshot in his locker before pulling the shirt on. He looked over at Beckett. “Ready to go, Lou?”

Beckett offered up a smile of his own. “After you, Spike.”

Sam made sure he was at the rear of the group exiting the locker room. If the uniforms he and the other guys were wearing hadn’t already given away that Sam was a cop, the bullet-proof vests and the guns arranged in a cage near the locker room would have. Sam buried his alarm with the ease of long practice and followed his fellow officers to the workout room. After an instant’s consideration, Sam opted for an exercise bike, though it took a moment to adjust the bike to fit his frame; it looked like someone very short had been the last to use it. A young brunette joined them a few minutes later, hopping up on a treadmill next to Spike. Sam opted to focus on his own workout as he waited for Al to show up.

Before Sam could get into a rhythm, a yell came from the hallway. “Bomb call! Let’s go!” Just after the yell ended, an alarm went off, sharp and piercing.

The entire group all but flew out of the workout room, hustling to the cage and their gear. Sam managed to stay in the rear and snagged the last vest. As he settled it in place, he watched the officers pull on their radios and helmets. Once the vest was on, Sam was able to get the rest of his gear without anyone getting suspicious.

From the other room, he heard someone asking if the call could be traced.

“No. It’s VOIP, rerouted through an anonymous server.”

“Future headquarters. It’s a construction site.”

Sam followed the group toward the trucks as someone told the lady at the front desk to patch the foreman through to his phone. Whatever was going on, it looked like it was going to happen fast, whether he was ready or not. “Oh, Boy.” _Al, where are you?_


	2. Team One, Hot Call

Sam stayed on Spike’s heels until they reached the trucks. Then he hurried around and slid in on the shotgun side of the truck Spike had just jumped into. Wordy got in the driver’s seat and started the truck. Sam reached out and turned on the siren as the trucks roared onto the road. Then he started praying Al would show up before things went, as Al would put it, ka-ka.

“Foreman’s not picking up, Sarge. I’ll keep trying.”

Sam jumped a tiny bit at the voice over the comm in his ear. Not good. If ‘his’ team could hear every word he said, he couldn’t talk to Al when the Observer showed up.

As if the thought had summoned the Observer right on cue, “Sam.”

Sam looked in the rearview mirror a moment before remembering that Al didn’t appear in mirrors. Turning around would give him away, so he nodded as subtly as he could.

“Alright Sam, you’re a Lewis You…” a smack was followed by a squeal from the handlink, “…nnng. Oh, Lewis Young! You’re a member of Toronto’s Strategic Response Unit _and_ you’re on Team One. That’s like the best of the best, Sam. These guys are the cavalry _for_ the cavalry. You, ah, Lewis have been on Team One for three years. You handle…” Al trailed off as he read the handlink. “Okay, Sam. Looks like you handle profiling, le…” another smack, another squeal, “…ss, less lethal, and you’re a bomb tech.” Al grimaced at that, “Hope you don’t have to do _that_ Sam.” There was a pause, then, with a tone of voice which told Sam that Al was waving his cigar, Al added, “Ziggy says that headset will pick up anything you say, Sam, so you gotta be careful.”

Sam rolled his eyes a bit at _that_ and tilted his head a bit, putting an expectant look on his face. Considering how quickly ‘his’ team had been called out, he needed to know what was going on.

Al picked up on Sam’s silent order and moved on. “Okay, according to Ziggy, you’re here to…” the Observer trailed off. Sam swallowed hard. Al only stopped like that when it was bad, really bad. “…save your life. Awww, geez, Sam, I don’t _like_ this. Come on, you lousy pile of gummy bears, Sam’s not gonna die!”

Sam jolted just a bit in his seat, trying to keep from whirling around to face the Observer.

“Ziggy’s givin’ it 95% odds you’re here to save your, I mean, Young’s life.” Al stopped for a moment, eyeing Sam worriedly. He hated watching his friend risk his life like this – especially since he couldn’t help, not physically anyway. “Ziggy says Team One has transcripts of all their calls. He’s already pulling the transcript from today and we’re gonna save Lewis and you’ll Leap out of here just fine.”

Sam nodded to the rearview mirror, grateful that neither Wordy nor Spike were looking in his direction. Sirens wailed as they drew closer to the bomb call.

When the Observer spoke again, he’d regained his usual manner. “Okay, Sam. Ziggy hasn’t finished going through the transcript, but he’s gonna send me all your lines from today. I know we don’t usually feed you lines like this, but Ziggy’s already sayin’ we gotta keep everything ‘cept you dyin’ the same.”

Sam arched a brow in Al’s direction.

“Oh Ziggy’s having fun with all this,” Al snarked, waving his cigar around the backseat. “He’s got me patched into the headsets too, so I can listen in on these guys. Oh, yeah, speakin’ of which, better tell you who your teammates are. Teammates…too bad you can’t keep ‘em around for other Leaps.” Al smacked the handlink again, muttering at the squeal from Ziggy. “Okay. Driver’s Kevin Wordsworth,” Al started, “Aka ‘Wordy’, according to Ziggy.” “Passenger is Michaelangelo ‘Spike’ Scarlatti. In the car ahead of you we have Sergeant Gregory ‘Greg’ Parker and Team Leader Edward ‘Ed’ Lane. Behind us we’ve got Samuel ‘Sam’ Braddock…oh wow, two Sams…”

Sam cleared his throat just a little to jolt Al back on course.

“Sorry Sam. Last member of the team is Julianna ‘Jules’ Callaghan.” Sam grinned at Al’s low whistle. “Must be one heck of a woman, to be one of the best.”

The cars turned onto the gravel road right by the construction site as Al finished his briefing on Team One. Sam looked out the window at the construction site. Parker must have convinced the foreman because the man was outside the site, yelling on his radio.

“Sam, don’t look!” Al yelled from the backseat.

Sam whipped his head away an instant before the explosion shook the air, rattling the cars, and raining chunks of debris down, even as the trucks pulled up next to the gates and slid to a halt.

As Team One slid out of the trucks, Parker called, “Everyone okay?”

Parker was a stocky man a touch taller than Spike. He was mostly bald and what was left of his brown hair was going gray. As he looked back in Sam’s direction, Sam could see that he had warm brown eyes and well worn laugh lines under his serious expression. On the opposite side of the truck was Constable Lane. He was taller than Sam, completely bald, and sported light blue eyes. His expression was much sterner and intense; this was a man used to giving orders and leading others.

Sam joined the others in replying with an affirmative and watched as the Sergeant and Lane hurried over to the downed foreman, calling for an EMT. Sam opted to stick close to Spike, aware that he’d need the bomb tech’s expertise sooner rather than later. He also took a moment to appreciate Al’s outfit. It was a familiar silver jacket with a purple shirt, dark slacks, and a glowing blue star pinned to an equally bright tie. The man himself was about Spike’s height with equally dark hair, though Al’s was curly rather than puffed up like Spike’s. Al’s features were weathered, a legacy of both his age and his stint as an MIA. The Observer bounced on his heels, waving his cigar at Sam with wry humor in his dark eyes. Sam grinned back and turned back to ‘his’ team as Parker rounded them up to pass out assignments.

“Priority one: we profile the subject, locate the target, intercept it in time. All right? Spike?”

Spike nodded and picked up with, “Lou and I will check for a follow-up bomb. If we’re clear, we’ll run diagnostics on the site.”

Al held up the handlink and read, “See what we can learn from the bomber’s materials.” He gave Sam a significant look.

Sam followed the silent order and repeated, “See what we can learn from the bomber’s materials.”

Sam Braddock piped up, “Boss, I had a look at a lot of IEDs in Afghanistan.”

Parker nodded at Braddock, “That’s great. Give them a hand.”

“All right.”

The four men headed into the construction site and started examining the blast area. Sam followed Al and worked the equipment as the older man coached him through the forensic analysis. Before long, Parker contacted them for an update and Sam stopped working to listen for his cues.

“What do you have, Spike?”

“Okay. Blast radius: 3.2 meters. Depth: 1.6 meters. So, explosive force of about 3,000 kilojoules. That narrows it down.”

Sam could almost see Parker nodding at the report. “What have we got on Globalmax Energy Group?” Parker asked.

With a “Whew!” Jules put in, “Well, they patented a method of extracting crude from the tar sands. Effective, but environmentally toxic.”

Al cringed. “Aww, Sam. Sounds like these guys deserve to be brought up on charges. Just not bomb charges!” He leered a bit in the direction of the command truck. “Smart, beautiful, _and_ good with a gun. She’s one of Team One’s snipers, you know.” Sam rolled his eyes at Al’s predictable attitude toward the pretty officer.

As Al drooled over Jules, Parker kept working, “Okay, let’s talk to CSIS, see who they’ve got on their eco-terror watch list.”

Al jerked back to attention and fed Sam his next line. Sam broke into the conversation with, “Boss?”

“Yeah, Lou, go ahead.”

“Ion scanner’s identified the explosive. It’s TNT.”

“Can we trace it?”

Sam grinned a bit as Spike took over, enthusiasm clear, “Yup. The residue-- it has tracer elements embedded into it. The lab can trace it right to the manufacturer, right down to where the shipment was delivered, and from there...”

Parker cut off Spike, both amused and exasperated with the far-too-detailed report, “Okay, you had me at ‘yup.’ Let’s do it.”

“Copy that,” Spike acknowledged.

As Spike looked back down at his equipment, Braddock approached with a piece of the bomb. “Spike, check this out. We can trace this. Has solder on it. This battery set it off. We got a bar code.”

“Sweet, Sam. Nice.”

Al spotted Sam watching the two SRU officers and intervened. “Come on, Sam. We’d better find the bomb pieces we need to get this nozzle off the street.”

Sam nodded and moved to join Spike as Braddock, Lane, Wordsworth, Callaghan, and Parker departed to pursue leads on their mystery bomber elsewhere.

Al briefly departed to ogle Jules and get an eyeful of the local treehuggers, _environmental activists_ , Sam corrected himself, snickering internally at Parker’s playful correction of Jules’ initial label. The scientist would have thought the cops would stick to business, but he had to admit that the brief levity was a breath of fresh air in the midst of the chaos. He bit back more laughter at the comments Parker and Jules made about the Olive Branch’s business model and revenue streams. Of more concern to the time-lost scientist was the risk to his team members searching for the second bomb, but he trusted them to do their jobs safely and well.

“Lou? I think we’ve got enough to check the database.”

Sam nodded and joined the bomb tech. “Okay, Spike.”

Al reappeared as Spike ran the signature they’d found through the database. Spike arched his brows at the result and tilted it toward Sam. Sam read through the information and shook his head; he certainly didn’t recognize the group. Over _both_ of their shoulders, Al peeked and shook his head to himself; Sam would have liked to ask the Observer who the group was, but he didn’t dare and he suspected he’d find out anyway.

Spike keyed his comm. “Boss, we got something. Been working on finding our guy’s signature.”

“Signature?” Sarge queried.

Spike nodded as he elaborated, “Yeah, bombers. They tend to be consistent. They find their favorite materials and their techniques, and they stick to them. So it could be a specific photoelectric sensor from a smoke detector...”

“Okay,” Sarge half-stated, half-asked.

Sam broke in, “Or a specific pattern of circuits.”

Spike picked the thread back up, “So we ran all the elements through the federal signature database.”

“Find a match?” Jules asked hopefully.

Spike shook his head as he continued, “Yeah, boss, I know the database doesn’t lie, but Lou’s never heard of these guys. I never heard of these guys. The PLC-- People’s Liberation Corps.”

Sarge, though, clearly had. “PLC. That goes back. Winnie, you got anything for us?”

_Winnie?_ Sam wondered, but got his answer as the voice of the lady from headquarters came on.  “Uh, full membership number unknown.” Her keyboard clicked for a few moments in the background. Then, “Ah. String of environmentally-related bombings, late ‘70s. Leaders Vanessa and Sheldon Kominski arrested in 1980.”

“Okay, any recent activity?” Sarge asked.

“Nothing reported.”

“What about our friends, the Kominskis?”

“Vanessa and Sheldon Kominski are now faculty at the university.”

_Say what?_ Sam nearly exclaimed. He traded an incredulous look with Al.

“I know, Sam. Seems outrageous, but there have been more than a few universities where an arrest record is more of a plus than you’d think.” Al shook his head. “I don’t get it any more than you do, Sam.”

Since Al had spoken over the last few comments, Sam only heard Sarge’s last wry remark, “Times are a-changin’.”

_That’s for sure,_ Sam agreed.

Mere minutes later, Lane came on the comm with, “We’re in the machine room, Keffler Corp. We got bomb number two.”

Sam and Al exchanged grim looks and Al looked around at the blast area; with a sigh and a rock back on his heels, the Observer said it all, “Oh, boy.”


	3. Picking up the Pace

Sam swallowed as he sat at the computer. On screen, he could see everything the team said over the comms. No wonder Ziggy had been able to give Al such detailed information. He looked over at Al. His Observer was studying the handlink, a frown growing. That matched Sam’s growing sense that he would, at some point, have to deal with a bomb today. The Observer abruptly shoved the handlink into the pocket of his jacket and all but stalked over to Sam, not even glancing at Jules as he passed her by. Sam’s stomach dropped. It was going to be bad, he just _knew_ it. Then Sarge entered the Command Truck and Sam shifted back to the computer and leaned forward a bit to the microphone.  “11:43 AM, bomb call, robot sending out signal blocking remote detonation.”

Spike chipped in with, “We’re sending in Babycakes.”

Somehow, Sam was not surprised that the tech had named his robot. He exchanged a brief grin with Al as Jules called, “Assuming the device is triggered by a timer, boss, we got twenty-five minutes until detonation.”

Spike parried to point out, “That’s also assuming our guy’s any good at setting timers.”

Sam put his own two cents in, “And that he plans on sticking to the schedule. Spike, I’m gonna come out there and give you a hand.”

Spike shot back, “Forget it. Rule number one of defusion.”

One brow shot up as Sam tried, “Don’t blow stuff up?”

Spike chuckled at Sam’s remark and said, “Never more than one man downrange. You know that.”

Sam shook his head and looked over at Al, who was standing next to the Sarge. “Sam, Ziggy’s gone through the whole transcript and we know what you need to change.”

Sam waited but Al shook his head, a grim look on his face; the look Al had mastered during his MIA years and used to hide his fear.

“I really don’t like this Sam, but right now, we need to keep things as close to the original history as possible. Trust me, Sam, when we get to what needs to be changed, I’ll tell ya, but for now, just keep following the transcript.”

Sam gave Al an insistent look, determined to know at least _something_ about what was going on.

Al sighed and gave in, just a little. “Okay, Sam. There’s going to be three bombs, not just two.”

Sam swallowed hard, a smidge of panic flashing across his face as he drew the logical conclusion.

“Yeah, Sam,” Al admitted, regret in the depths of his dark eyes; regret that he could only watch and never help. “You’re gonna have to defuse the third bomb, and the third bomb’s going to be what we have to change.” The handlink squalled. “Easy, Ziggy, Sam had to know at least a little. Okay, Sam, heads up.”

Sam nodded and shifted back around to work on the computer.

Parker eyed Lou, a bit concerned since Lou had been acting a bit off all day. But he needed all hands on deck at the moment. He’d talk to Lou later. “Winnie, has the lab come back with anything on the TNT?”

“Just in. Manufacturer’s name is ProCan Chemical.”

Parker allowed a small smile. “That’s great. Now, let’s look into purchases made by a Ronald Mellor or a Simon Richdale, last six months.”

“Copy that. I’ll red-flag large quantities.”

“No, negative,” Parker countered sharply, turning and pacing as he spoke. “Not large quantities. Large quantities is for legitimate industrial clients. We’re looking for small quantities only.”

Sam contained a huff of laughter as Winnie’s last comment scrolled across the screen, “I knew that.”

Lane broke into the conversation, all business, “Building’s secure. Spike’s the only remaining personnel.”

Spike’s retort was almost predictable at this point, “And Babycakes. Don’t forget Babycakes.”

Al, invisible to all but Sam, laughed at the tech’s quirky nature. “I like this kid, Sam.”

Sarge leaned forward a bit, studying the computer screen over Sam’s shoulder, “Okay, Spike, read me the tea leaves.”

“Okay, you see that shadow, top left? That’s looking like a digital clock-- so it is set to trigger by timer.”

Sam eyed the picture on the screen. Even with only black, white, and gray, the bomb looked ominous.

Lane came up with an idea, “Let’s set up transport to move this bomb off-site. We got twenty-one minutes.”

Sam looked over at Al hopefully, but the Observer shook his head, a sentiment echoed by Spike.

“Except you see those two shadows, bottom left? Those are mercury switches.”

Sarge finished what all of them were thinking, “Motion sensitive.”

“Motion very sensitive. Can’t move it. Going to take human hands not to set it off. I’m going in.”

Sam’s alarm was echoed by Sarge’s, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Spike--” There was a long pause from the whole team, then Sarge nodded and relented, “Okay, okay.”

“Copy that.”

Sam cast a look of alarm in Al’s direction. “Don’t worry, Sam, he’ll be fine.”

Winnie broke in, “Sarge, we got another call coming through. I’m patching this one in live.”

Sam froze for an instant. The third bomb. The one _he_ was going to have to defuse, with _no_ training, or experience.

A distorted male voice came through the comms. “The third bomb will detonate 12:30 PM on the campus of Halliwell Technical College.”

Behind Sam and Jules, Sarge started pacing, going right through Al as he moved. His voice turned strained. “Okay. All right, that’s forty minutes from now. He’s picking up the pace.”

“Dividing to conquer,” Lane put in.

Sarge surveyed his two subordinates and ordered, “Jules, you stay here with Spike. Lou, let’s get to the college. Eddie?”

Lane sounded as if he was getting into one of the trucks, “On it.”

Sam scrambled after the Sarge, following the other to the nearby truck. “Sam, you drive this time,” Al ordered. “I’ll tell you how to get there.”

Sam nodded and jumped up into the driver’s seat as Spike’s own order for him came through, “Lou, get a head start on the scans. I’ll catch up as soon as I can, okay?”

“Copy that,” Sam replied.

What was far more worrying to the scientist was Spike’s last remark over the radio as he put the car in gear, “You got to be kidding me.”

“I got a match. TNT delivery to a Simon Richdale,” Winnie announced to the team.

Catching Sam’s puzzled look, Sarge elaborated, “That’s Rafer’s alias.”

“What’s the address?” Lane demanded.

“788 Joliet in Parkdale,” Winnie reported.

“Boss, that’s close. Change of plans. We’re going to drop in on Rafer. He might have answers, or demands, or something we can use,” Lane decided. Sam sneaked a look at Sarge but he didn’t look annoyed or upset by Lane’s decision.

Sam kept driving, following Al’s directions and listening to the confrontation with the bomber over the comms.

Then Wordy’s voice came over the comm, “Sarge, we found his maps. The third bomb is located at the foot of the Earth Sciences Building.”

“And he knows what he’s doing. He’s planted the bomb at a support column-- it blows, that building comes down,” Braddock interjected. Sam exchanged a worried look with Al at that. The last thing either man wanted was for a building to blow up with _kids_ inside. They _had_ to stop that bomb, preferably without Sam dying.

“Copy that, we’re seconds away,” Sarge replied.

Sam jerked as a gasp and a death rattle came through the comms. Not one of the team, but someone must have been very close to whoever had died. He suppressed a jump as someone, probably Lane, yelled in frustration.

“He gave himself a heart attack, Boss,” Lane snapped.

Al let out a low whistle as Parker asked, “He gave himself a heart attack?”

“He injected himself with air.”

Sam winced. Not a good way to go. Fast, yes, but also _very_ painful.

“Okay, did you get anything out of him, Eddie?”

“Yeah, he’s not working alone.”

“And he was sick,” Wordy put in.

“Yeah, his hands were shaking. Assembling a bomb is precision work. He’d need someone with steady hands,” Braddock concluded.

“Let’s tear this place apart. We look for e-mails, letters, anything that can help us ID the accomplice. Let’s go,” Lane ordered.

To Sam’s surprise, Spike joined the conversation, “And guys, schematics. Schematics would be great.”

Sarge brought the conversation back on track as Sam drove the truck onto the college campus. “All right, team. Our subject, may he rest in peace,” Al snorted, “has left us juggling an unidentified accomplice and two scheduled detonations.”

Sam brought the truck to a halt and the two SRU officers got out of the truck as Sarge continued, “Eleven minutes to go on the Keffler Corps bomb, twenty-nine minutes to go on the Halliwell College bomb.”

“Too bad it’s not pieces instead of peace,” Al snarked, disgust and anger blazing on the short, but fierce admiral. Sam arched a brow; something was definitely pushing Al’s sore spots.

Lane sounded equally sore as he remarked, “This guy wants to save the world, make a big statement. ‘Oh, I know, let’s blow up some college students. That’d be good.’ ”

Sarge shook his head a bit as he replied, “It’s not just that. Halliwell College just signed a huge funding deal with the Lyrium think tank.”

“The global warming deniers,” Jules filled in.

“The way he saw it, they’re brainwashing a new generation of climate killers,” Sarge finished.

Wordy sounded amused as he asked, “Sarge, Halliwell? Lyrium? Is there anything you don’t know?”

“It’s the burden I bear, Wordy.”

Jules took the opening, “That...and it was a feature article in the _Star_ last weekend.”

Sam and Al snickered, Sam amused all over again at how this team could still manage to joke and find humor even in the middle of a bomb crisis. It was a worthwhile skill, in his opinion; kept things from getting too dark or gloomy.

Sarge cast Sam a mild glare. “Ouch. Thank you, Constable Callaghan.” He shifted back to business. “How we doing on tracing that battery?”

Jules sighed. “Well, it’s a common brand and a partial bar code, so I’ll keep you posted.”

“Copy that.”

Sam tuned out the conversation between Braddock and Spike as he kept up with Parker. The Sergeant approached a plain-clothed cop in charge at the college.

“Hey, Inspector. How you doing?”

“Sergeant. Our bomb’s at the base of that pillar there. It’s under the garbage bags,” the Inspector reported.

“Okay, I’ll get started on the reckie,” Sam said. He and Al headed back to the truck to get started.

“Okay, Sam, here we go,” Al said, looking out at the bomb, his gaze grim.


	4. Defusing the Bomb

Sam peered through the binoculars at the bomb, hidden by three garbage bags. The graveled area the bomb sat on made him uneasy. There were few things that would make Al so agitated and worried. Sam swallowed, remembering the Leap that had saved his brother and Maggie’s death from a land mine. He hoped he was wrong, but he was afraid he was right.

Spike’s voice broke into Sam’s thoughts, “Lou, we’re looking for anyone or anything that looks out of place. Any sign of a pull-wire near the device?”

Sam studied the bomb a moment longer, his eyes narrowing behind the binoculars. “Okay. It’s hidden by garbage bags, but there’s nothing extending out. I don’t see anything.”

“How we doing Wordy?” Lane demanded.

“Not great,” Wordy groaned, “Our pal Rafer was pretty fond of his paper shredder.”

Braddock broke in almost immediately thereafter, “Spike, good news. Got schematics for all three bombs, including one with three batteries.”

Sam huffed a sigh of relief as Spike exclaimed, “Samtastic! Upload me a photo, would ya?”

“One minute,” Braddock promised.

“Clock’s running down, Spike,” Parker pointed out. “How you doing?”

“Sam,” Al hissed, giving his friend a ‘now or never’ look.

Sam swallowed hard and interrupted, “Boss. We got the schematics. Let me get a head start.”

“No, no, no, I’ll be there. I’m nearly done here,” Spike insisted.

The time-lost scientist dug his heels in. “Spike, I’ve seen you do it, okay? I can handle a pair of cutters.” _And I’ve got Al and Ziggy watching my back._

“Copy that,” Spike acknowledged, though he didn’t sound happy – or willing – to let Sam risk his life. Sam understood Spike’s emotions and he traded a brief glance with Al; _he’d_ felt like that when he and Al had switched places.

“We’re gonna lose people here,” Sam added.

Sarge stepped in, his voice soft, but firm. “Okay. Go.”

Sam went back to the truck and grabbed the kit Al pointed to. As he walked back out from behind the truck, he cast a nervous look at Al.

“I’m right with you, Sam,” Al promised. “And I bet you figured it out, buddy. Take it a bit slow as you go out. This is what we gotta change.”

“Going downrange,” Sam called as he started toward the bomb. After a few steps he mouthed, “Land mines?” at Al.

“Bingo, Bango, Bongo, Sam. That nozzle bomber buried five land mines in the gravel right near the bomb. Ziggy’s gonna light ‘em up and you are gonna stay as far away as you can, Sam. They’re nasty, Sam, real nasty. Russian, antitank mines. You step on one of them and it’s all over.” Sam frowned, cocking a brow at Al; if Young had stepped on a land mine, then the mine would have set the bomb off. Al made to jab at the handlink, then noticed Sam’s quizzical expression. With an exaggerated grimace, Al explained, “This type doesn’t go off until you step off, Sam. Young heard the click and felt the mine, so he didn’t step off…not until the bomb was disabled and removed.” Sam swallowed at that, imagining how _helpless_ Lewis Young must have felt in the original history, knowing he was about to die and unable to save himself. The Observer scowled and jabbed at the handlink. Five red beams shot up on the gravel area. “Okay, mines are marked, Sam.”

Sam nodded and stepped up onto the gravel area. He moved toward the bomb, scanning for any visual signs of the mines. He doubted that there _would_ be any visual sign, that would have been too easy. As usual, Beckett would have to make it up as he went along.

“Easy, Sam. This bomb’s got mercury switches, just like the second bomb.”

Sam nodded and drew closer. He stopped about a foot and a half from the bomb and spoke, “Okay, I’m on scene, Spike.”

“Okay, Lou, you said three garbage bags? Anything rigged if they move?”

“Use the extendable mirror, Sam,” Al coached, his expression rigid with tension for his best friend.

“Okay…” Sam moved the mirror around the garbage bags, wary of any possible changes to the original history. “No visible booby traps, no wiring.”

“Okay, that’s good. So you get those garbage bags out of the way, okay? Take it real slow. Make sure they don’t touch the device,” Spike ordered.

Sam eyed the far too close red area and was very careful to not move forward as he lifted the garbage bags away from the bomb. He tossed them in the direction Al indicated. Sweat gathered as Sam reported, “Okay. I have 360 access to the device. It’s a shaped charge, Spike. It’s big, man.”

Sam gathered himself and tossed a venomous glare at the buried land mine. _Here we go._ “Guys...”

“What is it? Lou?”

“I think there’s a land mine by the device.”

For several long moments there was silence over the comms. Al nodded in approval. Weak maybe, but the important thing was to save lives.

“Come again, Lou?” Sarge asked.

“There’s a land mine by the device,” Sam repeated.

“How do you know that?” Sarge’s voice was very calm, almost as if he was trying to keep Sam calm by voice alone.

“I see it, just a little,” Sam lied.

Sarge’s breath came out in a huff, then, “Okay, Lou, important thing is just stay calm.”

“I’m calm,” Sam promised, looking at Al.

“Okay? Yeah?” Sarge pressed, worry breaking through the forced calm.

“Yeah, I’m good, boss.”

“Lou, get out of there,” Spike ordered, the slightest edge of panic in his voice.

“Spike, I’m fine,” Sam insisted, “I can do this.”

“Spike…” Sarge tried to interrupt.

“I’m gonna get this thing nailed, and then I’m on my way,” Spike promised.

“ _Spike_ , you just stay focused, okay? We’re all good here,” Sarge said firmly.

Sam locked his gaze with Al’s and kept going. “Boss, how much time we got left on this bomb?”

He could hear Parker’s hesitation and growing worry as the other replied, “We got, uh, we got...we got time, Lou.”

“He’s right, Sam. We’ve got time.” Al grimaced despite his words. “Hope they don’t switch radio channels on us. Ziggy’s piggy-backing on your radio to tap in.”

“Lou, where there’s one mine, there could be more, so stay calm,” Sarge ordered. “I got uniforms containing the square. Anyone got anything on our accomplice?”

“Sarge, I think I have something,” Jules replied, “Battery purchase matching the bar codes six days ago. It’s not Rafer. It’s a female. I got a feeling.”

Agitated, Sarge snapped, “Okay, I need more than a feeling here, Jules.”

“Okay, hang on. 11:02 AM. Member number: 0763827. Vanessa Kominski.”

“Nice,” Parker all but hissed.

“So much for our retired professors,” Al drawled, earning a nod from Sam.

“Wait,” Jules said, then, “Okay, it’s her card, but it’s their daughter. It’s Sara Kominski.”

Observer and Leaper stared at each other a moment. “Ain’t _that_ a kick in the butt,” Al remarked. “Must be a family thing.”

Sarge absorbed the new information. “Okay, we’re going to need that photo. Send it out to everyone, Jules.”

“On its way.”

“Hey, Winnie, let’s send a team to the Kominskis’. See if Sara’s there and I want her parents here, too,” Sarge ordered.

“On our way,” Lane promised. “If we find Sara, maybe we get some answers.”

Sam sucked in a relieved breath, only to let it out again in concern as Spike came over the comm. Al gave the scientist a reassuring look; he knew Lewis Young had been the only good-guy casualty in the original history.

“Sam, it’s getting a little delicate here. I’m going to need both my hands, okay? Can you talk me through? He hasn’t color-coded his wires. He’s soldered hundreds of them together. The guy has a death wish.”

“Other Sam, Sam,” Al put in quietly.

“Had a death wish,” Braddock muttered, earning an agreeing snort from Al.

“Okay…” Spike started, “on the right side of the resistor, third battery, I’m looking at a Y circuit, all right? Three wires. Is one of them marked?”

“You’re looking north?” Braddock asked.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, east wire of the Y, it looks like it grounds out,” Braddock began.

“Yeah?”

“It doesn’t. That’s the one you want. It’s the only one connected to the active detonator on the third battery,” Braddock informed Spike.

“He’s got it, Sam,” Al reported with a grin.

“Unless that’s what he wants you to think,” Lane pointed out.

“You mean, he leaves a phony schematic lying around?” Braddock demanded.

“He might,” Wordy remarked, “He didn’t look too surprised to see us. He may have been expecting company. Spike?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s done,” Spike reported briskly. “Bomb needs to be contained and disposed. Sam, send me a preview of that college bomb. Lou, buddy, I’m on my way.”

Sam looked at Al, who frowned. “He’s not gonna get here in time, Sam. Plus, only you can ‘see’ the mines.”

Sam nodded. “Spike, talk to me, I can do it. We’re running out of time.”

“No. We’re close,” Spike shot back.

In the background, Jules murmured regretfully, “We’re not that close, Spike.”

“Lou, you step on one of those land mines…” Spike trailed off, fear and worry dripping from his words.

Sam didn’t even need Al’s cue. “Isn’t the job about risk? Huh? That’s why we’re here, right?”

“Lou…”

“Isn’t it about saving lives, Spike?” Sam pressed, “Come on. Come on, Spike, talk me through. Talk me through, Spike. Come on.” He looked up at Al, who nodded back.

“Ziggy’s already on it, Sam. He can use the handlink to highlight the wires for ya. But once we start, you gotta hold still. I’ll have to turn the markers for the mines off.”

Sam gave a firm nod in reply as Parker broke in, “Let him do it, Spike.”

Spike hesitated a moment longer. “You got a kit?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied.

With that, Spike gave in. “Okay, Lou. Don’t touch the detonator, okay? He’s got three layers of countermeasures and we are going to disable them in reverse order.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“Upper right corner. See the battery?” Spike asked.

Sam eyed the battery balefully. “Yeah.”

“Use that as your orientation point, okay?”

“Okay.”

“We’re calling that north, you got it?”

“Okay, I got it,” Sam assured the bomb tech.

“You sure?” Spike pressed.

“I got it.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause it wouldn’t be the first time you took a left when I told you to take a right.”

Sam chuckled, relieved at the banter. If ever he finally managed to get home, he wouldn’t mind actually meeting these guys as himself; somehow, he didn’t feel quite so alone after the teasing over the comm. Al’s dark eyes lightened a bit at the crack Spike had gotten in on Sam.

“Eddie? How far are you?” Parker asked, sounding as if he had spotted something…or someone.

“We’re here,” Lane replied.

Sam tuned out the subsequent comments and the foot chase that broke out behind him. Al let out a low whistle as he watched the action, but stayed put, handlink lighting up the wires Sam needed to cut.

Spike had Sam double-check each wire before he cut. With the utter mess of green wires, Sam understood and approved of Spike’s caution. The screech of tires heralded Spike’s next comment, “We’re here buddy. I can see you. Okay, let’s count them up now. How many you cut?”

“Four,” Sam reported.

“Oh that’s good. You only got three more, okay? How you holding up?”

Sam traded a weary grin with Al. “Cool as ice.”

“Yeah?” Spike demanded.

“Yeah.”

“Three minutes,” Jules reported.

“You good to go?” Spike asked Sam.

“I’m good, let’s get this done,” Sam replied.

“Is the perimeter cleared?” Jules asked Parker.

“It’s sealed. Building’s evacuated. We’re three minutes away.”

Sam ignored the clamor and remarks as he focused on the bomb. _Three more._

Another wire parted under the clippers. _Two more._

Ziggy lit up the next wire almost before Spike could speak and Sam cut it. _One more._

Jules’ voice broke Sam’s focus. “Boss, 60 seconds.”

“Get behind the truck,” Sarge ordered. “Spike! Move ‘em back.”

Sam was about to shift back to the bomb when the Inspector spoke up, his words sending a chill down the scientist’s back. “Building’s not clear.” _What?_

“What?” Sarge demanded, equal horror to Sam’s in his voice.

“We’ve got kids on the roof somewhere; we just found them. Building’s not clear.”

“Come on, Inspector,” Parker groaned, “Do it fast.”

Spike spoke up, his focus on the bomb, “Right side of the relay, a Y circuit, three wires.”

Sam snapped his attention back to the bomb. “Yeah.”

“East wire, east of the Y, where it splits. You got it? That’s east. That’s your det wire,” Spike explained.

“Okay,” Sam replied. Ziggy lit the last wire and Sam didn’t have to look to know Al’s face was a mix of fearful and anticipatory celebration.

“No wrong turns, right, buddy?” Spike teased.

“No wrong turns,” Sam promised, as he cut the last wire. The clock blinked one last time, then died. Both Sam and Al sighed with relief and Al jabbed at the handlink a moment more. The mines lit once more with a red light. “It’s done,” Sam announced.

Sam heard Parker turn to the Inspector and say, “Inspector, bomb’s defused.”

Sam looked at Al, who read his question and grinned. “Bomb’s safe to move, Sam. Pick it up and get outta here.”

Sam picked the bomb up and walked off the gravel area, grinning at Lou’s team.

“Good work, Lou,” Sarge remarked, returning Sam’s grin with one of his own.

“See you on the other side, Sam,” Al called, as Sam felt the Leap take effect.


	5. Leap Out

Sam landed in a marble, arched hallway. He was staring at a frightened woman, who was cowering away from him. She stared at him for several moments, time enough for Sam to realize he had a gun in his hand and it was pointed at the woman.

“George?” she asked, her voice on the edge of breaking.

“Oh, Boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: I hope you've enjoyed my first romp through both the Flashpoint and Quantum Leap fandoms. In addition to the two new chapters I've posted today (July 1st, 2016), chapters one and two have been updated with a few changes suggested by a friend of mine. Cyber brownie to anyone who recognizes where Sam landed. Thank you all for reading.


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